Total Eclipse of the Heart
by strictlyficly
Summary: Sometimes she finds him in a room that does not belong to them.


**A/N: The first half **_**is**_** Delena heavy but this is not for the Delena/Elena fandom.**

* * *

She frowns when she wakes up to find his side of the bed empty. Though when she closes her eyes with the intent to take a deep breath—her go to method to calm her nerves and ease her frustration—her senses pick up the scent of pancake batter and bacon as it sizzles in the frying pan. A smile splits across her face and a tiny thrill of excitement washes over her. While a part of her wants to leave the bed and go to join him. Maybe thank him for his unexpected act. She decides to make quick work in the bathroom instead, fix her hair in a manner that doesn't make her appear to have been in a bar brawl and return to her place, wrapped in the silk sheets. Let him finish his planned breakfast in bed but minutes pass since she's heard him fill two plates and fill up two mugs of coffee. A splash of bourbon in each as if she wouldn't notice with her enhanced senses. Before his ascent of the stairs and when ten minutes pass she sits up and slips into her robe before leaving their room.

"Damon?" She calls the moment she arrives at a closed door and jumps when it swings open before her hand can fully wrap around the handle.

"Hey," He greets, moving just before her eyes shift to take a peek into the room, effectively blocking her view and ignores the suspicion in her eyes as she returns his greeting.

"Hey," Elena replies, eyes slightly narrowed.

* * *

It becomes something of a routine as it happens repeatedly over the next two weeks. The only thing that changes is that she wakes up to a waiting plate containing french toast, two strips of bacon, eggs, a bowl of fresh fruit and a splash of her favorite blood type in a steaming cup of coffee. But to her constant disappoint, no devoted boyfriend in sight.

* * *

She manages to wake up before him one morning and waits until his feet hit the floor before she speaks.

"That room," she begins and turns her head just as he turns his to meet her gaze "what's inside it?"

A pained look clouds his features as his blue eyes drop from her's. The urge to reach out to him and apologize immediately takes over but she stops and recoils into herself at his response.

"Nothing,"

Despite detecting no dishonesty in his voice or his demeanor, there's no comfort in his answer.

"Okay," Elena replies, settling back onto her side of the bed. And he goes on about getting out of the bed and disappearing into the ensuite. Either oblivious or uncaring of her increasing insecurities, worry creeping into her veins and doubts that she should never have swirl into her mind.

* * *

She opens her eyes the moment she hears the door close. Moving as slowly as she can to not alert him to her awakening. She's resigned to his newfound morning routine. Now that her memories are back, she's grown use to the lack of quiet rolls in the sheets just as the sun rises—because despite what her friends thought they were considerate of Stefan's feelings—being one of the highlights of her days. Or even lazy morning smiles that sent fireworks running through her body alone.

For now there is just a complimentary byproduct of something that was not for her in the first place.

"I'm taking it back."

It's the first time she hears him speak. And it scares the hell out of her.

"The moment I find a stain or even the forming of a wrinkle." He continues as if someone has responded. And maybe someone did behind the sound of her phantom heart pounding against her chest resounding in her ears. "You should be honored. It's one of a kind. Not even she has touched it. And I let her touch anything she wants." The innuendo is not hard to find nor who "she" is. The implication that only she can have him is loud and clear to her and yet it is a slap to the face. While he may only see himself as hers, he's given something he prizes to another. And she doesn't even know who they are.

* * *

Breaking and entering is not something she does but she finds it a necessary evil and she prepares herself for the worst. The room to smell of an act she thought was only for them mixed with a scent that is not her own. Clothes and shoes and other necessities belonging to another woman. Maybe even come face to face with a woman's worst nightmare that is not her, because no man—and especially not one with the last name Salvatore—would dare to. Not after all that they have done in her name.

She exhales a breath she was not aware she was holding when she finds no such thing. Only a frown as her eyes scan a plain ordinary room. Out of curiosity she strolls over to the half open door and peers inside to find an assortment of women's clothes. Save a plaid shirt and one of Damon's signature black leather jackets. Torn between guilt at her distrust and temporary doubt in his devotion to her, and relief, she turns to leave. On her way out she spots a lone glass bottle of perfume, a jar of coconut oil and an opened bottle of cocoa butter.

Long chestnut colored strands brush Elena's shoulders as her head tilts as her eyes take note of the specific position of the items. One that feels oddly familiar and leaves an ache in her chest but she doesn't get to dwell on it very long as the opening and closing of the front door catches her attention and she quickly makes her exit.

* * *

"I'm sorry,"

Comes a silky voice from behind her. The sudden intrusion nearly making her scream. Though the moment her nerves reside and the words finally register. She finds the sudden apology both comforting and confusing but before she can question it.

It, along with any other thoughts flee and the only thing she can focus on is the feel of his fingers wrapped tightly around her waist. Soft lips forming a trail from her shoulder, along the curve of her neck as her hair is gently moved from his path until they come to a stop at her ear. Her knees going weak as his lips wrap around her earlobe, one hand slipping between her thighs.

* * *

She finds a lock on the door the next day.

And the apology suddenly makes sense.

* * *

Talking to your ex about your current boyfriend—especially when said ex is your current's brother who you left them for—is in poor taste. She's not so far gone to not know that. And yet she can't help herself. Stefan is the only one she can talk to. Comfort that she can find nowhere else. No matter how much she wants to and no matter how much she knows he needs.

For both of their sake.

If only for his sanity and ability to continue to come to terms with their separation. To remain the loyal brother, understanding and amiable ex. The good brother even if it is only in regards of which can cope and holds the ability to be mindful of keeping his hands from what does not belong to him. And her to maintain her image of all that is good and differentiate her from her manipulative ancestor and the two brother's shared ex that sent their relationship and bond up in flames.

"I really don't know, Elena." Stefan sighs and she can pick up the exasperation in his voice behind his politeness "Why don't you ask him?"

"I have," she stresses "he says that it's nothing."

"Then maybe it is." Stefan offers tiredly.

She knows that she is pushing her hold over him on. And maybe he's a second away from letting go. Lately she's noticed his eyes going elsewhere and that elsewhere's aren't looking away as much as they were before. There's a faint ticking of a clock that she's constantly grabbing at to reset but it's slipping from her grasp.

"Maybe," Elena considers, defeated.

The heavy sigh he lets out lets her know she's got him before he can even say the words.

"I'll ask him."

"Stefan, you don't have to do that."

"I don't," he agrees and it throws her off because all of his actions since she's known him have been for her "But he is my brother."

* * *

"I thought we agreed that room was off limits,"

It's wrong of her to listen in on a conversation that is not meant for her ears. Especially one belonging to brothers in which she had almost single handedly destroyed. Katherine may have sent it up into flames but she added fuel to it to keep it going. But she rationalizes it as merely saving each the trouble of paraphrasing and censoring their words.

"No, we agreed that neither of us could have it."

"Right," Stefan agrees sarcastically "How could I not see the difference?"

Damon chuckles "Your sense of humor is improving."

"Or we've finally found alcohol that can stay in our bloodstreams long enough to make it seem as if you are as funny as you think you are." Stefan argues.

"It's not mine." Damon says after a long stretch of silence "It's for a friend of mine's. They're coming to town in a few days and they're going to need a place to stay."

"You don't have friends." Stefan states.

"I have more than you."

"If you're counting the one that framed me for murder as a friend then...yes." Stefan concedes "I guess you do."

"Blondie stopped counting the minute you started following after her like a lost puppy."

"I do not-" Stefan attempts to protest and she can picture the frown on his face.

"It's like Samantha all over again. Are you going to beg me to teach you my best tricks again?"

"Considering Samantha assumed we shared the same taste, they weren't of much use in the end."

"Her glove in your room said otherwise."

Stefan chuckles in response "Yeah, well."

Damon laughs then sobers "Is this you, or is this Elena?"

Silence engulfs the room and she immediately presses herself against the wall, eyes flitting to the open window when a gentle breeze sends her hair fluttering against her bare shoulders.

"Both," Stefan answers.

There's another stretch of silence and with each second she finds herself biting at her lip as she waits for a reply that leaves her paralyzed.

"I made a mistake." Damon finally responds "I know that now. I knew it back then too but I wanted you to feel what I felt. I needed you to. For once. She was the only way to make that happen. And…" Damon trails off "Karma really is a bitch. One that is completely and utterly head over heels for you."

"Oh?" Comes Stefan's reply.

"My best friend sacrificed herself for someone who she barely knows. Both of us apparently." Damon adds.

"Herself?" Stefan questions, the confusion in his voice resonating with as such she feels.

"I'm sorry about Lexi," Damon ignores his brother's question "If I could take it back, I would."

"But you can't," Stefan doesn't give his brother an inch. And if there's one thing they've all come to know, it's that Lexi was the one thing Stefan could never look past. Katherine and herself, he rationalized and even took the blame that did not belong to him. Elena can't help but wonder if the same will be as such for Damon. "And you can't take her back either."

"That's something we're all learning, isn't it?"

"Maybe you," Stefan says "everyone else got a hold of the concept when they stopped playing in sandboxes."

"Now you're being a dick."

"Pot meet kettle," Stefan says with a slight slur to his voice and laughs along with Damon as the clinking of glass fills the silence that falls between them before their conversation turns to what she does not care to hear about.

* * *

She's zipping her suitcase when she hears the door to Damon's bedroom open and close. She briefly pauses, waiting for a reaction...whether it's a simple ask of what she's doing or the feel of his hand on hers. Gently pulling her hand away before she finds herself flat on her back staring up into a pair of ice blue eyes that send a shiver running down her spine. Holds her breath when she hears the sound of his feet approaching her until she can feel his breath tickling the back of her ear as he finally breaks the silence.

"If this is a surprise romantic getaway you're doing it wrong."

She huffs out a humorless laugh at his words and heft's her suitcase off of his bed. Brushing past him on her way out after snatching the lone plane ticket he holds in between his index and middle finger.

"Elena," Damon calls after her weakly.

"You don't have friends."

He blinks once then twice, watches in stunned silence as she turns to face him.

"Not...not in the way that Stefan does. The closest that you have to a Lexi is Alaric. And you went to his grave once. You don't have friends. You have people that you find something in common with and drink until you find them tolerable enough to tide over when you're sober again. Or crawl into bed with. But you do not have friends."

Damon stares at her then nods "You were listening."

"Yeah," She says though knows it was not a question.

"It's a nice change for once, yes?" Damon asks, his voice taking on a dark, yet almost teasing tone.

Elena's eyebrows knit together "What?"

"Communicating," Damon elaborates "Words other than 'Yes', 'Faster,' or 'Right there,' if you're feeling especially talkative." He raises his hand just before her palm makes contact with his cheek. Mindful of his grip—tight enough to keep her from moving but not enough to bruise. And immediately releases her when her eyes widen, watching as she pulls it towards her chest, rubbing her wrist as if it were broken. "Maybe I don't have friends." he concedes "But neither do you."

"There's where _we_ have something in common." He adds, and the sadness in his eyes takes away the bite in his voice.

* * *

She finds that she has nowhere to go when she realizes that she's passed the same house five times. But when she pays attention to the colonial style home and catches the porch swing and the five dangling off the corner of the cream painted home she feels tears spring to her eyes and slowly pulls her car to a stop in the driveway.

Her hand raises to knock on the door but stop and changes direction to wipe the tears that escape and lets herself inside with the spare key buried into the padding of the wooden porch swing she used to spend hours on. She's surprised when the lights actually come on when her hands reach blindly for the switch. Takes note of how little things have changed. The only difference being a few pictures placed here and there. Eyebrows raised at the stack of mail neatly placed on the table. Caroline must have been here recently, she rationalizes. She moves with ease throughout the home. Her feet guiding her to her childhood friend's bedroom, a sad smile settling on her face as her eyes scan the room until they land on the dresser.

A lone glass bottle of perfume, a jar of coconut oil and an opened bottle of cocoa butter.

"_My best friend sacrificed herself for someone who she barely knows. Both of us apparently."_

She's unable to fight the bile rising in her throat and finds herself hugging the toilet of Bonnie's ensuite emptying the contents of her stomach.

* * *

"My best friend?" Elena says the moment Damon steps into his room, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Her anger rising when he only stares at her in response but makes her visage change on it's own volition at the words that fall from his lips.

"Bonnie hasn't been your best friend since you chose to be with someone that was going to end her life on the decision of a coin in your name. And she stopped being your friend when you chose to be with someone that killed her mother and left her to bleed out in the woods while you watched over something that wasn't even her fault."

He doesn't stop her when she acts on her natural instinct for his blood. Takes the slap without protest. Watches with pity as tears stream down her face leaving black trails from each eye down to her chin, and waits until the pounding of her fists against his chest lighten until she's only staring at him.

"I'm not sleeping with your best friend. Even if I did, you lost the right to be mad at me the moment you went and erased me from your mind. And the right to be mad at Bonnie for anything when she died bringing your brother back to life for you after you almost tore her throat out."

"I don't believe you."

"Ah, there she is," a voice interrupts the dark haired vampires making both turn to find Kai casually lounging on the bed as if it were his own "The famous Elena Gilbert," he continues ignoring the glares "I was starting to believe you had them under some spell. If I knew all it would take was the idea of Damon getting off to anything that wasn't you I would have filled you in on our date." He winks at her then shifts his gaze to Damon who has used the distraction his arrival brought to get dressed.

"She drank the bourbon." Kai begins watching the way Damon's face crumples at his words with something between pity and fascination "To the very last drop. Then crashed your car. Poetic way to go if you ask me." he comments with a shrug "Like one big fuck you, showing you that it's your fault without telling you. Anyway," Kai sighs as if he were bored "the blonde one is at the hospital with Bonster while she's getting her stomach pumped."

Elena blinks then turns to Damon only to find him gone and she turns to Kai who slowly gets off of the bed. Removing a cassette tape from the inside pocket of his jacket and holds it out for her to take.

"Do you remember _Thirteen Reasons Why_?"

* * *

Her senses come back one by one. The smell of disinfectant assaulting her nostrils so strongly it almost makes her gag but all that comes out is a dry cough. Ears picking up the sound of an annoying beep every two seconds that makes her want to claw at her ears and scream for it to stop. The sudden twitch of her finger leaves her flirting with air before falling back to the scratchy fabric of a thin sheet. When she finally gathers the strength to open her eyes she's forced to close them again as a bright light makes her eyes burn leaving white spots beneath her lids and her head turn away so violently that she's surprised she didn't snap her own neck. A weak groan passing her lips when she shifts and feels as if a knife has pierced her rib cage.

"Bonnie?"

A voice calls out for her attention managing to sound both panicked and relieved and she forces her eyes to open again and search them out. Finding Damon Salvatore staring back at her with wide eyes, shoulders sagging in what seems to be relief when she meets his hopeful gaze.

"Hey," Damon utters gently as he leans forward when he sees that she's finally awake "Welcome back," he smiles at her "how are you feeling?"

"About as bad as you look." She replies swiftly removing her hand from its place in between both of his ignoring the protest her body is making as she shifts to sit up straight.

"I'm going to let that slide and also pretend to not notice the bags underneath your eyes since you're in a hospital bed."

"How nice of you." She remarks through a faux smile.

"What are friends for?" He retorts mirroring her expression until her features contort into a scowl.

"Excuse me?"

He's ready to taunt her with the countless hours spent on the couch watching disney movies until he finally managed to convince her to watch what quickly became her favorite movie, knowing it line for line. Having her ass handed to her at every board and video game the two scavenged. Painting each other toenails—well he painted. Blow drying her hair on wash days. The exchanging of friendship bracelets that never happened but if he managed to get it through a straight face he might get away with it due to how out of it she seems to be. But the genuine look of disgust and offense registers. Right along with her demeanor and the air around her. Less like the woman he spent months getting to know and forced to cohabitate with. Learning every quirk and being able to know her mood and thoughts and feelings solely by the look on her face. More like the girl he used to live to annoy back when she was a novice to her craft but rose to and exceeded all expectations for her failure.

"Bon," Damon starts only to be interrupted by the door swinging open. He's about to speed over to the new arrival and demand that they leave until he sees it's the one doctor that he actually kind of sort of trusts. So he sneaks a quick glance back to Bonnie feeling his heart sink at the distrust in her eyes and rises to his feet rushing over to his old ally giving her a quick recap of what just happened.

Bonnie watches the interaction slightly annoyed at the hushed tones preventing her from listening in and raises her hand to adjust the hospital bed to her liking only to stop, her breath catching in her throat when she spots a tattoo along the side of her finger.

"Is this Italian?" She wonders aloud as she studies the words.

"Bonnie?" Meredith calls her name gently walking over until she's standing directly at the foot of her bed with Damon still planted firmly in the spot she last saw him a worried look on his face.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions and I just need you to answer them as best as you can," she pauses waiting until Bonnie looks at her "okay?"

Bonnie nods.

"Can you tell me your full name?"

"Bonnie Sheila Bennett."

"The date?"

"May 2, 2012."

Meredith blinks, her lips parting in surprise and immediately turns to face Damon. Who for his part looks as if his heart has just been ripped from his chest before a humourless chuckle passes his lips.

"Damon," Meredith says, her voice managing to sound concerned yet threatening at the same time.

"She's alive…" He says after a full minute of staring at Bonnie. Almost as if he were committing her face to memory, looking to Meredith after spotting the forming of a frown on his witch's pretty face "That's what matters."

He pulls the door closed behind him, takes a quick sweep of the of the empty hallway before going to the waiting room. Takes in the sight of Elena moodily staring out of the window and his brother whose eyes are trained on Caroline who is pacing back and forth until the former ripper suddenly looks to his direction.

He waits until all eyes are on him before he repeats the same words as he said to Meredith and leaves before any can get one of their own out.

* * *

He's pouring bourbon into the steaming mugs of coffee when he hears,

"You should go see her."

The words startle him for a moment and he panics at being caught but he ultimately decides to ignores the intruder. Placing each mug onto the waiting tray before going to the stairs.

"I think she would like breakfast other than Frosted Flakes." Caroline continues on, following after him as he starts his ascent and stops at the door. That to her surprise doesn't slam in her face. She waits for a moment, baby blue eyes fixated on the way that he sits on the floor reminiscent of how she and Bonnie would when Miss Sheila would bring breakfast to Bonnie's room at their sleepovers. Because they weren't allowed to eat on the bed. Tears well in her eyes at the vivid memory and she quickly wipes them away before doing the same at the threshold of the door. Taking periodical sips from her mug as she tries to find a way to fill the silence.

"I find her in this parking lot every Friday morning." she begins recalling her childhood friend's newfound routine "There's a Starbucks there but she just stands in this parking spot staring at the building with this lost look on her face. Kind of like it doesn't belong there." she raises her mug to her lips to take another sip but he looks up at her so she stops and continues on with her one sided conversation "I looked it up, it used to be a grocery store. It went out of business in 1994. That's the year you were in, right?"

The closest she gets to a response is a plate being pushed towards her that doesn't quite make it past the doorway. So she only stares at it, and decides to not comment on how she prefers waffles when he gets up to push it until it's within arms reach.

"How is she?"

Caroline nearly snorts because she knows that he knows the answer to that question. He's not fooling anyone on his late night "blood runs". So she ignores his question and instead says,

"She doesn't let anyone sit on her right anymore. She lives in flannel and refuses to remove or talk about the tattoo that just randomly appeared on her finger. We were watching tv and she just bolted off of the couch, ran to the door and opened it. Now Stefan can't wear boots when he comes over." Caroline says making a point of looking at the shoes he discarded at the foot of the bed "And she criticizes his pancakes, anything else he makes is fine but apparently his pancakes taste like ass." The blonde vampire adds then eats the last of her serving and swallows it with the aid of her coffee.

* * *

When Friday comes he's sitting on the curb waiting and he has to make himself stay put when he sees her making her way through the shrubs and walking until she suddenly stops. Following her line of sight he sees his Camaro in the parking spot they would always take and smirks. He watches as she takes a tentative step forward before going over to his car and leans against the trunk.

Her step falters at the sight of him and he holds his breath waiting for her next move.


End file.
